


Have Lafayette take the lead

by Minnye



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anxiety, Caring George Washington, Emotional Hurt, George Washington is a Dad, Inspired by Stay Alive, One Shot, Short One Shot, Song: Stay Alive (Hamilton)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23131924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minnye/pseuds/Minnye
Summary: His thoughts were spiraling into nothing, black and red on his eyes, a silent roar in his ears, and the thin air escaping from his grasp. Dying, living. It didn´t matter.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 71





	Have Lafayette take the lead

**Author's Note:**

> Short and totally random. I don´t know. It just came to me and here it is.

_Have Lafayette take the lead._

Those words. Those cursed words! Hamilton couldn’t take them out of his head. And why not Lafayette? He was a better man than him. Calmer, kinder, more intelligent... He had the troops wrapped around his fingers. Why not Lafayette? It was the better choice at the moment.

“Son?” said Washington. “Are you okay?”

Was he? No. He had been looking at the correspondence in front of him for the last ten minutes without seeing it. No, he wasn’t okay. He was going to survive this war; he was going to survive it without glory and without a name. Just a poor secretary, the son of a whore, not enough to be given a command, not enough for more than writing letters and going on errands. He was going to survive the war being no one. And that was the worst possibility of all, and he couldn't do anything to change it. He had been given a choice and he had chosen wrong.

"I´m fine," he answered. It wasn´t worth it. Distracting his commander of his tasks just because he was pitying himself. "I´m fine," he repeated trying to convince the General. 

It was clear that he didn´t believe him, but to Hamilton it didn´t make any difference, because he was going to survive, and at the pace he was going, his life wasn´t going to be easy. He was going to end up in the streets again, poor and cold. And this time, this time it wasn´t just him. Eliza and his future child would be dragged downwards with him. No future, no hope. Dirt under his nails, blood on his hands, hunger…

“Hamilton,” called his general once again. 

His thoughts were spiraling into nothing, black and red on his eyes, a silent roar in his ears, and the thin air escaping from his grasp. It didn´t matter. Dying, living.

He pulled himself together. Taking the reins of his panic in a titanic effort until it was just a little point of light behind his ribs, hidden from the world but still present. Still aching like a knife deep within his guts. The stab wound had been less bruising than this. The hopeless truth. Eliza crying, a child in her arms.

“Alexander, breath.”

A hand on his shoulder, ink on his fingers. The feeling of paper on his palms, the soft steps of a man just passing in front of the tent. Laughter, and conversation. The heat of the body beside him.  
The first inspiration felt like drowning, reality feeling like the first impact against the ground, and he was back. He was back. 

“You should take a break,” said the man in front of him. The worry was clear on his face, in his voice. “Have you been sleeping?”

“As much as always.”

“So not at all.”

The ghost of a smile crossed his lips, the frown easing into a fond expression that made him look down again. It was still weird to see such a paternal expression on his general´s face. To feel… To feel like it mattered. Like _he_ mattered. It was the same with Eliza, with Laurens. With Lafayette and Mulligan. He had been alone for so long. Always fighting, always running. Always trying to…

“Rest, Alexander. It´s an order.” 

“Yes, sir.” 


End file.
